


and then you pray and say everything is going to be alright

by chellian



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: (i guess), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Dreams, F/M, Gen, Parallel Universes, good! henry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22415989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellian/pseuds/chellian
Summary: Henry dreams of six women in a different universe.or; i make a sequel to that one fic i wrote when i was hella high
Relationships: (but not really) - Relationship, Anne Boleyn/Henry VIII of England, Anne of Cleves/Henry VIII of England, Catherine of Aragon/Henry VIII of England, Henry VIII of England/Catherine Parr, Henry VIII of England/Jane Seymour
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	and then you pray and say everything is going to be alright

**Author's Note:**

> i swear i'll write something historical my brain is stupid

They first come to him in dreams, faceless yet familiar at the same time in Henry’s mind, like the water running through his veins and giving him the life he has preserved for many years to come until his death. He’d look at all of these women, in his dreams, frowning at him or sharing the hatred they have stored against him like a locked vault of their darkest memories.

(Some even hit him- he doesn’t fight back as he lets all these women vent their anger towards him.)

It was not his life that had flashed before his eyes when his breaths had become shallow, but the peculiar yet recalling dreams of these young women, and he remembers when they had come to his life like glass panes or portraits wishing to become something different.

* * *

A short elderly woman comes to his dreams first- after his wedding night with Catalina. She was crying, perched on an invisible ledge that Henry cannot see; it was as dark as the night, the moon’s light only giving light to the sobbing woman’s head-covered hands.

(He does not know if it really is the moon giving him a chance to see the woman, or his mind is showing him great illusions.)

Henry kneels beside her, her cries almost reminding him of Catalina’s during her mourning the death of Arthur; it was melancholic and desperate, desperate that Arthur is gone and is now buried six feet underground.

(He tells her his memory still lives on inside of their minds, and that comforts Catalina, for a short while.)

“ _Henry_ ”, the woman snarls from underneath her hood and hands, and the man kneeling beside her perks up of his name being mentioned. “I have been loyal... I have been patient... I have been forgiving to you. And this is how thou repay me? By completely abandoning God’s will and I for that wench? My sweet daughter Mary...”

Henry did not have time to open his mouth, to ask her who this ‘Henry’ was (he’s dreading if she says it is he who has forsaken her), he opens his eyes - with a gasp for breath - to find himself in his bed, with Catalina, back turned, sleeping peacefully and blissfully while he is asking himself what in God’s name was that dream all about.

* * *

He meets another woman- she was wearing the same hood but it promptly doesn’t cover all of her dark brown hair, her eyes full of anger, anguish, and loathing. She sees him first; her simple yet elegant dress drags on with her as she marches over and grabs Henry by the collar, lips forming a snarl, beautiful almond-shaped eyes glaring at his bug-eyed ones.

(He cannot lie, he is confused yet terrified of this young woman in this dream. He had slept soundly in a stranger woman’s bed during a drunken night, and now he is in the darkest recesses of his mind. Perhaps they were warping his guilt into one woman.)

His eyes hover towards her neck; a shade of red and purple, still bleeding with a huge amount of crimson dripping down her neck and into her dress. The wound was a thin line, like it was made by the sharpest and thinnest blade, and he could not help but cringe and think who had done this to this beautiful and alluring woman.

“ _You murdered me_ ”, she says through gritted teeth, her hands enclosing in on his clothes. “You murdered your wife. The one who made you do the impossible, yet you murdered me under the guise of your own crimes.”

He tries to find his words, to find appropriate messages to create a speech and tell the woman he is not who she seeks, but only two words come out of his mouth-

“I’m sorry.”

Then he wakes up, Anne Boleyn not under the covers, the clothes in his room all gone like she was just a whisper in the winds.

* * *

The blonde woman approaches him with a sad smile, small steps being carried by her feet, looking so dainty and simple and so well-mannered that he wonders if she has any qualms with he.

“My love, you are here”, she says with a small sigh, curtsying in front of him with a dazed and forced smile, as if she did not enjoy his company but practised to the point she had become just a doll.

(She doesn’t look familiar unlike the other two women; but oh Lord, her voice was quite praising.)

“I am... here.” He looks around to find nothingness, numbing him on the inside. “But where is here.”

She giggles in a maternal manner, like one cradling a child with delicacy and caution but with love and intimacy. She - slowly - points her fragile finger towards his chest, her sky blue eyes blinking back at Henry.

“You are here. In your mind, where you belong.”

Henry nods slowly. “...Alright, then. Can you tell me your name?”

She looks at him with an inquisitive manner, before laughing once again, “My goodness, Henry! You have forgotten your _wife’s_ name? It is Jane S-”

He wakes, realising he was in a seating position while he is sleeping, his laptop glows obnoxiously in front of him and with a sigh, he turns it off, wanting to know what in the blazes was going on with his dreams and who that woman who told him she was his wife is.

(He receives an invite to the funeral of one Jane Seymour- his care taker when he was a child, it seems, having given birth to an Edward Seymour a few days earlier but yet she succumbs to death. Her long time friend Joan adopts Edward.)

* * *

He dances with the woman in German clothing all night, her dresses embedded with jewels and her hair in a hood just like all others. She was tall yet slim, her face seemingly enjoying her dance with Henry as he laughs too; he has never felt this alive in all his dreams. They stop dancing after spinning many a times, and his world becomes a little more dizzier than it had been a while ago. The woman was giggling and laughing pleasantly, as she curtsies in front of Henry.

“Many say I am ugly”, she says in a thick German accent, eyes twinkling a little. “But I say I am the most beautiful woman in the England entirely; next to your daughters Elizabeth and Mary, of course. None can compete with their beauty- even I, even Katherine Howard.”

Henry smiles awkwardly- how did this woman know of his daughters? Judging by her era of clothing she does not belong in the world of modernity. “Thank you for your compliments, madame.”

She laughs a little, her beautiful voice lighting up the dark skies with flares of stars blinkering and multiplying as she speaks. “I know who has scattered the rumours that I am ugly, disgusting to look at.” She sighs as she looks back at her hands, as if not meeting Henry’s eyes.

Henry’s curiosity peaks, “Who has told you that you are repulsive; you are the most beautiful woman I have met. In my dreams, of course.”

Her eyes level with his, but there is a tinge of darkness. “ _You_.”

And then she dissolves into darkness, the stars that have been created by her voice and laughter dying and being absorbed into the darkness as it devours him whole, urging him to scream-

He wakes up to find Anna, on the bedroom doorway, face full of concern and a glass of water in her hands.

(He wakes up a few days later to get her to the airport so she can be with her art tutor Hans Holbein; she kisses him in the cheek for goodbye and he smiles slightly, not feeling romantic intimacy but a close friendship with her.)

* * *

The teenager screams as Henry approaches her, and he stops for a moment, contemplating whether he should comfort her or leave her be- she seems to be scared of him, like he was a predator wanting to eat her up like it was its last meal.

“Don’t hurt me Your Majesty!”, she screams as she trembles ever so slightly, her face stained with tears. “I am sorry that my infidelity has struck you with terrible heartbreak, good King, and I know my punishment is truly right and just.”

His eyes linger on her neck; a mangled mess of bruises, tangled together with her bones and muscles as it crackles and spews out more crimson into the clean and pure skin that has not been decayed nor touched by whatever the hell hurt her.

Henry wakes up to find himself in a park bench, the young girl whom he had given blankets to have a good night’s rest gone.

* * *

“Interesting”, the last one looks at him with cold and calculating eyes, sizing him up and down like he was nothing but an ant in her eyes. “We have only met and interacted once, and it is because of you dying; what a pleasure.”

Henry nods slowly, “What is your name, then?”

Her eyes twinkle ever so slightly, “Kateryn Parr.”

Just like that, she scatters to the winds.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are very much appreciated :)


End file.
